Mr. Landlord [Comprehensive Yingmei]

Silent, Hotch and John looked at each other.

Before John came in, Hotch was the only one facing the woman in the tub, unable to understand the language and the woman seemed unable to communicate at all, ignoring his body language and pounced on him.

Facing a woman wearing only a tulle, Hotch's movements were unavoidably restrained, and he was thrown into a panic, in a dilemma.

John was sent in at this time.

When the door was opened, the woman pressing on Hotch also disappeared like a ghost. Hotch stood up in shock, and the maidservants tidied up the clothes for the new guests as if they couldn't see him, and retreated in an orderly manner, and fell on the bed. The rather drowsy man at the side opened his eyes quickly after closing the door, without being half confused.

He saw Hotch, and Hotch saw him, and the former military doctor quickly judged each other's combat effectiveness. It was obvious that the active FBI agent didn't look easy to deal with, so he swallowed, and stepped back a little cautiously.

"Hi..." He raised the corner of his mouth and greeted dryly.

"Hello." Thanks to the military doctor's hard work and world-renowned blog, Hotch recognized him. After a quick thought in his mind, Hotch decided to take a risk and explained the current situation to John simply and frankly Condition.

After all, it's useless for them to spend so much time here.

The whole story that Hotch was telling sounded unreal, but to John, being involved with Sherlock, no matter how untrue it seemed, seemed to make sense.

Didn't he just run into an illusion?

Isn't it just that if you bump into it, most of your vitality will be taken away?

Isn't everything he sees a painting?

It's okay, John says he can handle it.

The good military doctor squeezed the corners of his eyes and sighed deeply, trying to piece together his broken views.

Now is not the time to relax and lament, how to escape from here is more important than the three views.

He looked at Hotch, and the two men with the same integrity quickly established a cooperative and trustful relationship under the crisis and exchanged information.

Well, mostly from their romantic cohabitants.

There is no doubt that this is the world in the painting. Wu Cong detected the spiritual fluctuations here before he came in, so he can be sure of its relationship with the painting book, but after observation, Hotch thinks that not all of it is described by Wu Cong. of that painting.

The maid who welcomes guests at the door is indeed like an oriole with fluff on her hair, but the hanging flower gate is not the appearance of the wisteria vertical man described by Wu Cong, and the small pavilion after that, whether it is a dancer or a dancer, is a little different from that maid. There are obvious inconsistencies, but if you insist on saying that there is any difference, it is only the difference between being smarter and more dull, between being more charming in eyebrows and eyes and being more graceful in body, strictly speaking, it cannot even be regarded as a difference, it can only be regarded as a difference. Said to be a vague feeling.

He felt that it was necessary to take another look at the place where the guests were greeted at the door.

John also said that Sherlock thought there were many very similar illusions here.

They found all the information related to the illusion that they could find on the Internet. Of course, different people have completely different opinions about it. After eliminating the fabricated news at a glance, the consulting detectives found many interesting things in the description. .

"Most of their stories are the same. Two women led them into the gate, and they saw two older women at a hanging arch. Afterwards, they ate, drank and watched singing and dancing in a small pavilion in the middle of the lake. Finally, they were sent to the Rest in the room." The consulting detective spoke very enthusiastically, probably because Wu Cong didn't pay much attention to him and focused on deconstructing the spell here, which subtly aroused his childish competitiveness, "but the details in their mouths are not good enough. a lot of."

"Some people say that the two girls who entered the door were dressed in red, while others said they were dressed in yellow."

"Some say it's purple gemstones, others say it's gold."

"Of course it can be said that it was because they were delirious throughout the whole process, but looking at their statements, they are too detailed and true. The way they worded it makes me more inclined to believe that these are true."

"Under what circumstances can there be red clothes and yellow clothes, and purple gemstones and gold coexisting on the arch?" Sherlock said his deduction, "There is not only one illusion, but many, but they are generally very Similar, only different in details."

"After I came in, I also noticed that the style of the hanging arch is different from other places. Although it looks similar, you can find the difference if you look closely. The two women there are also very different from the rest. The clothes completely different in tone and texture."

Wu Cong smiled, and dissipated the aura between his fingers, "If you say that, you are right."

"Here is a facsimile."

Standing at the gate, he realized something was wrong. The word "Chonger" on the plaque was written by him himself. He couldn't even recognize his own handwriting, so he noticed the problem immediately.

Those two characters are written very similar to his, but it is a pity that it is still not his. His writing is more light and free, which fits the theme of boundless wind and moon, while the words on the plaque have an indescribable gloomy air, Those who don't know what kind of prison is here, and only one plaque has accumulated so much resentment and sadness.

The two girls who greeted them were also different from the ones he drew. The tails of their eyes were a little higher, their mouths a little smaller, and the emerald feathers on their heads were replaced by pearl hairpins. A frivolous and charming look.

How could Wu Cong draw such a frivolous character for his little girl.

But there is indeed his original painting in this copy—the hanging flower door, that part is his handwriting, he is used to adding some chalcedony liquid to the ink mixing water, so the color of the painting by him will be different from the rest , more hazy and soft.

Even if it is a copy that tries to imitate the original, each stroke contains the artist's soul, and each soul is unique, so no one can really paint exactly the same painting.

Wu Cong could see the mood of the painter from the painting, gloomy and desolate, full of resentment, even the bustling and prosperous scene in the south of the Yangtze River, seemed to be surrounded by a faint layer of grief and indignation, even though the maid smiled, it seemed There is also a bit of resentment between his brows.

But what is the resentment, I can't say clearly, I just remember resentment and sadness.

It's as painful as painting, but it's as hard to give up as life.

The artist who drew this copy is not capable enough to turn the things under his brush into reality as freely as he does, which is why there are his original works mixed in the copy. A world of real ones.

Since there is a part of the original work here, there must be other illusions...

Wu Cong paused, turned his head and walked out quickly, his speed was very fast, not walking but floating, his shadow disappeared in the blink of an eye.

The consulting detective originally wanted to follow, but before he could take a step out of the door, the women who had settled down came up again and pulled him into the door with a will. Their strength was terrifying, and for a while Sherlock couldn't break free.

Now that the guests are here, they can't leave casually.

The aroma in the room suddenly became stronger.

Wu Cong drifted across the path along the way he came, and he saw the young man in the kiosk. The man held his glass in a stiff posture, like a frozen statue.

Everything outside the door is still, like a painting made into a three-dimensional effect. Some people raise their glasses to drink, some dance their sleeves lightly, and some smile sweetly. Looking at this scene, you can hear the sound of silk and bamboo. , You can smell the scent of wine, balm, and powder in your nose, but the unreal abruptness is very clear.

The air quietly seemed to freeze, and the fog gradually thickened.

Wu Cong took a shortcut, stepped on the lake, and landed in front of the vertical flower door, the hazy purple and hazy green, the beautiful and dignified woman leaning against the door seems to be in a light sleep, in this frozen and unreal world In the movie, the two of them are very special. Even if they know that they are only drawn, they still cannot restrain themselves from treating them as real people.

It is here.

Wu Cong took out a pen, held the pen with his wrist hanging in the air as if it was dipped in ink, it seemed to move, then lifted the tip of the pen lightly, and swept it out along the hanging flower door. ink color.

Immediately afterwards, the air trembled again, the ink color was erased, and filled with bright colors again.

Wu Cong kept his composure, as if he had expected this situation long ago, he still drew quickly, and the brush that came from nowhere followed him closely. Wherever Wu Cong drew, he followed him to change. to where.

So with the Hanging Flower Gate as the center of the circle, the garden is bright and sad at one moment, the willows are green and pink, and the color is light at other times, misty and rainy, and the space trembles accordingly, and the ripples spread round and round, from dense to sparse, from small to vast.

It's just that Wu Cong's game was the best one. When he stopped writing, most of the garden had turned into the original hazy and shallow appearance, but the remaining half was extremely difficult to conquer.

Although the painter is far from him in terms of skills, Yu Danqing is on par with him. If the other party wants to fight to the death, Wu Cong will have no problem protecting himself. Ordinary people trapped in the illusion will be in trouble. not enough.

Wu Cong paused for a while, then suddenly picked up a brush and drew a beautiful woman out of thin air. He just drew a rough outline of her back, but when he saw her, he could think of what was in the mirror in the room, in the painting, in the fireworks, in the bed. The beauties in the veil, she possesses the unique charm of those beauties at the same time, and is endowed with unparalleled spirituality. She doesn't need to draw her face, and the most enamored person imaginable in this life has already appeared in her mind.

When the pen was closed, the space trembled violently, like a ten-story building collapsed, and countless scrolls were forcibly compressed on one sheet. Where Wu Cong had painted, the copy was obliterated by the original, and Wu Cong did not paint. Where it has passed, the original is swallowed by the copy, and it is still half light and half bright, but the light is a little more realistic, and the bright color is more eye-catching.

Wu Cong heard footsteps behind him, and turned his head to see that Hotch was running with a man he had never seen before, and the orioles behind them were holding up their skirts to stop them.

"Are you okay?" Standing still, Wu Cong and Hotch asked at the same time, and looked at each other again to confirm that the other was in good condition.

"Did you see Sherlock?" the man behind Hotch asked eagerly, "Tall, wearing a trench coat, he might be a bit strange to ordinary people but—"

"Don't worry." Wu Cong comforted him with a smile, "Your friend will be fine."

He turned around and looked at the bright colors on the other side with a complicated expression.

At first, the strokes seemed familiar, but later he felt that the colors were similar, and it was only when he picked up the brushes that he was fighting that he guessed who the other party was, and the painting of beauties made him confirm his guess.

After a pause, he said loudly, "Aren't you going to meet your old friend, Jingjun?"

Before the words were finished, the surrounding area seemed to be stained with ink and repainted, and in the blink of an eye, he was already in the small pavilion in the middle of the lake.

Not only them, but also the consulting detective who fell on the ground unconscious, and another man who was described as haggard and unconscious. It was no need to guess that it was the subordinate Moran who made Moriaty risk his life.

The small pavilion in the middle of the lake was divided into two halves, one half with light makeup and the other with heavy makeup. The good wine and dishes on the table were still untouched, waiting for the guests to take their seats.

The young man at the table has changed his face, pale and thin, with melancholy and resentment locked between his brows and eyes, his eyes are like a pool of stagnant water, but there is a dark and difficult to understand turbulent undercurrent.

"Mr. Wu." He clenched his fists and tried his best to restrain himself. A wry smile slowly appeared on the corner of his mouth, "You still failed your good intentions."

That resentment, even if it is burned by karmic fire for thousands of years, it will not be completely burned.